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I wrote at leangth about the Manor Arms Streatham in October, so I won't repeat myself. suffice to say we have been back several times. Most recently for a Sunday lunch on one of those hot days in March that seem so long ago.
I had Jersualem Artichoke soup
followed by John Dory with shrimps and mussels
Jimmy had beef and Yorkshire (he was a bit disappointed that it was slow-boiled beef rather than roast)
I finished with Burnt Cream
Very nice all round.
For earlier stages see Brixton to Ruskin Park Walk, Part 1 and Brixton to Ruskin Park Walk, Part 2.
The final stage is from Brockwell Park to Ruskin Park.
To be honest, it doesn't really a merit a stroll in itself. But, when he tackled the earlier part of the walk, we had finished with late lunch in the Lido Café and had preferred to walk home across the park rather than continue to the end of the walk. The Lambeth guide includes a partial tour of the park, including the Walled Garden, the Mansion House and the Miniature Railway, but we're familiar enough with the Park.
Instead, after a mooch round Brixton Market, we caught the bus to Herne Hill Station, and re-started our stroll. This was "built in 1862 in the Gothic Venetian style and is typical of the period. The square tower contains a water tank that held water for the steam engines."
It's a complicated junction, with 6 roads meeting and on the corner stands the Half Moon pub. For years, I assumed it was a Wetherspoons, given their liking for 'moon' in the names of their pubs, eg Lord Moon of the Mall, and, more ubiquitously, the Moon Under Water, after George Orwell. Jimmy remembers it as a boxing venue: his boys, now in their late 30s, attended a gym there. It's also renowned as a venue for live music and comedy, but I'm not sure its claims to be a 'gastropub' are really supported by a menu consisting only of pizza and burgers, albeit homemade, and Sunday Roast. We didn't go in.
We started the slow ascent up Herne Hill, pausing to note the former Fire Station
Built in 1906, it dates from a time when fire engines were pulled by horses. The fire station closed in 1920.
Next door is the former postal sorting office. I couldn't resist photographing the sign, noting in particular its missing apostrophe.
And, of course, its statement of employment practice! It only closed in 2007 or 2008, as far as I can make out from the internet - it's now a dancing school.
I have no objection to historic buildings retaining signs that point to a bygone era when women were not really considered to be workers - or, often, people in their own right. And I photograph them as a reminder that women have had to fight for what resembles equality today. None of what we have achieved was by baking cup cakes!
Incidentally, the Herne Hill Society doesn't seem to know the origin of Herne Hill as a name.
Not mentioned in the Lambeth Walk, but worth a deviation from their suggested route to have a look at St Paul's Church.
The original church built in 1843-4 by G Alexander was damaged by fire and rebuilt by Street in 1858. The west tower, spire and long outer walls of the Commissioners' church were kept and the chancel was enlarged and embellished. It is Grade II* Listed for its special architectural or historic interest. (The pub and railway station are also listed). It seems that it is a joint parish with St Saviour's at Ruskin Park, perhaps more evidence that South London is over-provided with 19th century Anglican churches.
Some interesting views from Herne Hill - this of Battersea Power station
The Lambeth Guide suggested we walked along Fawnbrake Road.
Enjoy the late-Victorian houses and variety of doorways, some set back and at an angle. A few upper windows have original stained glass. Look out for pretty tiles beside the doors on the left.
At the time, the Bill to privatise the NHS was about to go through Parliament, so this sight was no surprise.
I enjoyed how the terraced houses were joined together behind the main line
I suppose it appeals to the snobby, who can almost pretend they live in a semi, but I suppose it also means that the main habitable rooms only share a party wall on one side.
A nice little touch, with flowers planted where you normally only see soil or litter.
I photographed the front of this house, not realising that the owner was there, tending to his plants. He, Mr Brooks, invited us in to view and photograph the rest of his garden, out the back, and show us some traditional hospitality. It is certainly impressive what he has achieved, and it is very different from anything I have ever seen in a suburban house. He has at least 120 hanging baskets, and can spend up to three hours watering the plants. He is a retired builder, and has constructed the double decker, and the system for capturing rain water.
I thought there were some lovely aspects about the garden, and it is evidence of hard work and dedication. I suppose, ultimately, though, it isn't really to my preference. I think I would feel hemmed in, and I'd miss chance to sit or lie in the garden, to dine al fresco.
At the end of the road lies the magnificent Carnegie Library. Closed on Sundays, of course.Grade II listed, it was opened in 1906 after Lambeth received a grant from Andrew Carnegie. I'm not sure if he had any connection with the area; he was born in Dunfermline and emigrated to Pennsylvania at the age of 12. He made a fortune from steel, and spent his later years as a philanthropists, donating to public libraries. Perhaps motivated by a childhood in extreme poverty.
Also an interesting view from the road opposite
Unfortunately, that ugly St George Wharf Tower, like The Shard is set to dominate too many cityscape photos in South London. Talking of which...
We wandered into Ruskin Park, which for me was hitherto mythical. Not only have I never been there, I don't think I've even been past it. And, I have to say, it probably isn't the most exciting park in Lambeth's portfolio. But pleasant enough. Or would have been if the weather hadn't deteriorated sharply. I was sensibly clothed in layers, but Jimmy had been over-confident about the temperature, and was beginning to feel cold. Still, it was good to see another park that's had money spent recently to do it up.
View over London
Another church, St Saviour's lies just outside the park. There's a lot of St Saviour's around these parts, and further afield, but is not listed by the Catholic Church. According to Wikipedia, Saint Saviour may refer to:
Sanctus Salvator, a Latin dedication of churches or places to Jesus, translated in English as "Saint Saviour" or, more accurately, "Holy Saviour"
so, it seems to be somewhat of a historical 'head desk'! I assume this is actually the church hall (listed).
As we walked parallel with Finsen Road, I had one of those lucky moments. Despite the looming dark clouds the light was surprisingly bright, combining to set off the fresh colours of the housing terrace
We strolled around Ruskin Park, which was largely empty, except for the children's playground. I don't photo children's playgrounds unless unoccupied, for obvious reasons.
We retired to the Cambria for a drink. I can see that they're trying to make it a very nice place, but I'm not sure I'd return, even if I happened to be in the area, which, hospital visits aside, is unlikely.
On the way to the bus stop I saw a couple of random sights worth snapping. Or so I think, anyway!
I think they've rather ruined the stucco by painting it. But each to their own, I suppose.
Unfortunately, we made a right mess of getting home. There's a bus that would have taken us almost to our door (45), but the bus countdown app said it wasn't sue for half an hour. So we thought we'd beat the system and get a bus via Brixton (35) to intersect with a bus coming from Clapham (137 or 417). We waited more than 15 minutes for the 35, and then had another 12 minutes waiting for the second bus. And the weather was getting colder and colder.
Still, I'm glad we finished off the walk.
Lambeth's guide is found as a PDF here and more about Walking in Lambeth here.
A new toy for my birthday, a pasta maker. (Not my photo, I got it off t'internet). I used it once but was very dissatisfied with the results. I didn't cry, though, just seeing it as a learning or practice session. And I threw away the resulting tagliatelle.
In making pasta, the most important thing is to get the dough right. I've done a bit research, and the consensus seems to be, don't handle it any more than necessary. That is, don't knead it particularly, because the subsequently rolling will give it a good old battering and develop gluten sufficiently.
Very easy in practice. Just get some eggs and flour, and whizz them in the food processor, until the dough looks distinctly unappetising, then bring it together with your hands, and leave it in the fridge for at least half an hour, or until you're ready.
Once home, the excitement begins!It helps if your trusty assistant has already peeled, sliced, boiled and mashed a sweet potato. All I had to do was crumble some goat's cheese, and mix the two together.
As a novice, I did find rolling and cutting the pasta to be tricky, especially as I was paranoid about the dough drying out. But, conversely, it was easier than I feared.
And, then, simply pop them in the pan for about 5 minutes
However, in this house, food is made for eating. Photographing it comes a very poor second. So no further photos of the pasta, as we wanted to eat it piping hot!
Finally, sprinkle sugar on the crème brulée
Ideally, you should also photograph the finished product, post-blow torching, but there was an epic fail with the blowtorch. It had no adverse effect on the finished product, but the only way to extinguish the flame is to let it burn until the fuel runs out!
If it wasn't for the hyperlocal social media internet, I would never have known that Upstairs exists. It has been there about five years, and is not very far from home. An interesting restaurant, quite different from anywhere I've been to before.
It's not easy to find, the entrance being a door on a side road with a very small sign visible only when you are actually at the door. Buzz the entry-phone and climb several flights of stairs to the bar. We made a mistake in not going to the bar; I think you're supposed to sip cocktails and peruse the menu until called to the dining room. Part of an attempt to create a more intimate setting than one usually finds in a restaurant.
The dining room is several floors up, and a window seat gives a good view of Acre Lane, and, until the sun sets, the far vista of London. Cocktails and an amuse bouche were followed by our selection from a small menu - which changes every two weeks. I'm becoming more a fan of the tiny menu. Even though my non-eating of meat limits me, I feel more satisfied making a choice from just one fish and one veggie dish than worrying whether I've made the 'right' choice out of several, or wishing I could have this piece of fish with that accompaniment. Also, a smaller menu gives a higher guarantee of the food being cooked fresh, rather than taken from vast reserves in a freezer and pinged in the microwave.
I started with a Warm Jerusalem Artichoke Salad. I doubt I would have chosen this from a vast array of starters, simply because I'm unfamiliar with Jerusalem Artichoke, warm or otherwise.
It turned out nothing to be frightened of! The waiter explained the various ingredients, but this was some time ago, I didn't take notes, and I had a fair amount to drink - hence my current frustration. But note the dainty arrangement of ceps, and an emulsion, which, IIRC, was made from a root vegetable. The Jerusalem artichoke dominated, but the dish tasted as a coherent whole, not a main ingredient indifferently supported by others. Jimmy had Confit Pork Belly & Kumquats and expressed his satisfaction.
For my main course I went for Lemon sole, Alexanders, and Jersey Royals, a daringly early exposition of Jersey Royals, which has clearly become a 'must-eat' of this season. Is this despite or because of their drought-caused rarity value. Nice to see something so traditional and seemingly humdrum as a potato acquiring almost celebrity status.
I was not previously familiar with Alexanders, which is, apparently, also known as 'Horse Parsley' and has a flavour between parsley and celery. "It is common among the sites of medieval monastery gardens". I was not overly thrilled at the prospect of a lump of fish, some boiled potatoes and an indeterminate greed veg, so was relieved and pleased when presented with a thoughtful dish. Again, the flavours all complemented each other. Most importantly, each element was cooked perfectly, allowing the flavours to linger tantalising in my mouth. Jimmy had Blackleg chicken & walnut gnocchi, with a veritable cabaret of additional adorning ingredients, each patiently explained by the engaging waiter.
We were undecided about pudding, changing our minds several time. Against my better judgement, I was talked into having the Blood orange & gingerbread, which turned out to be a delicious combination of all sorts of seemingly random ingredients. They included gingerbread (obviously), fresh and frosted blood orange, quenelles of mousse and sorbet in subtle flavours. There is another ingredient, visible at the front on the far left, that added some extra crunch; again, I can't remember what it was. The surprise ingredient was beetroot jelly. Slightly anxious, not being a big beetroot fan, but this Really Worked. A gently sweet taste and a smooth jelly substance, it didn't really taste like my bad experiences of beetroot. Perhaps close to a blackcurrant jelly but without any tartness. And, of course, adding an extra dimension of colour.
Jimmy went for Mint mousse, chocolate spaetzle & raspberries. Overall, he enjoyed it, including the additional unlisted ingredients, but the spaetzle just didn't work for him. The internet suggests that 'spaetzle' are German dumplings, typically an element of savoury dishes working similarly to pasta. Chocolate versions seem to be one US cook's idea, and, according to Jimmy, not that good an idea. But of all the ingredients in six dishes, this was the only one that didn't work.
We came away with mixed feelings. Very good service and an intimate atmosphere. Good attention to detail. I really liked everything I ate, and found the presentation fun and appetising. Jimmy enjoyed just about everything, appreciating the fresh ingredients and the attention to detail in the cooking. But, I think, ultimately he was disappointed. The dishes were too delicate, too 'poncey', and too much about presenting a variety of different ingredients. He didn't feel as full as he felt he should have done after three courses. But he's a bit capricious. He referenced another restaurant previously visited as being 'hearty and wholesome' yet just a few days ago he stated he wouldn't go back there 'because it's nothing special'.
We also enjoyed the cocktails, which were different from the usual run-of-the-mill predictable names. He had several of an Irish whiskey based one, with 'Celtic' in the name, and I had a couple of gin-based London ones, which I would definitely have again.
We will definitely return to Upstairs. With an ever-changing menu, I'd happily go every month, if not more frequently, and I'm sure Jimmy will entertain another visit some time this year. Not least because it's so close!
For the first part of this route, please see Brixton to Ruskin Park Walk, Part 1
After we had strolled around Windrush Square and its immediate surroundings, we turned into Coldharbour Lane 'once a winding country lane connecting Brixton to Camberwell' and followed the directions through the area dominated by the market. If I was a serious photographer, or fancied myself as one, I would take lots of photos of the market, the vibrant product and the 'interesting' characters, stallholders and shoppers. That's where I have a problem. If you are very self-absorbed I suppose it's easy to see people merely as objects to be photographed. I also feel uncomfortable being white and middle class and, somehow treating people who aren't as a curiosity. Either in far flung places or in my own town.
The first interesting sight to be photographed was the Six Sided Clock on the Railway Hotel. Several times subsequently, I have approached this corner from a different direction, and there is a much better view. But either I don't have a camera, or the weather is wet, or it's dry and I have a camera, but I'm also encumbered by shopping.
After I had started drafting this post, the Urban75 blogger posted some much better photos Brixton landmarks: the Brady’s clock tower, Atlantic Road. Brixton, London SW9 and links to further posts providing a bit of history.
Still, I accidentally managed to capture a couple of people on this photo, which seem, at least with this obscured view, to represent two of the many types of Brixtonians!
The route is supposed to go through Brixton Village, but we decided to by-pass it rather than spend/waste time, and I've recently blogged about an aspect of it.
The walk took us along Railton Road. I think this was taken along Kellett road, a distant view of St Matthew's shimmering in the haze.
This roadsign, and the housing development it describes, I suppose was a well-intended attempt by the council to remind shivering newly-arrived immigrants of sunshine, sand and palm trees. Unless it was meant to be homage to a British Leyland car
For some reason, we were then directed along Barnwell Road, which isn't exactly the most interesting road in Brixton, despite the council's attempt to convince us of the architectural interest of an incongruous bit of infill and the different styles of arches over the front doors of the cottages.
The most interesting garden was sadly obscured by a car parked outside
And so we came to Brixton Water Lane, which follows the line of the now buried River Effra.
A delightful Georgian villa, although I'm not entirely sure about the colour, which is better suited, in my opinion, to artisan cottages
Talking of which...
These were built around 1820 to house the staff of Brockwell Hall.
This is called 'Surrey Lodge'. The internet throws up a historical reference to a Surrey Lodge, Brixton Hill, but I doubt this is it. I suspect it's a modern-day pretension, not necessarily by the current occupiers.
The walk then took us into Brockwell Park, a place we know reasonably well, having visited it numerous times. Nevertheless, it was a rare thing to enter from this particular entrance and take a walk along the Eastern side.
This is the view of the rather ugly looking flats on Dulwich Road. I imagine though, that they're not necessarily a bad place to live, given that the higher floors will have a particularly pleasant view.
This is St Jude's church,
A very large church (originally 1000 seats). Last used for worship in 1975, it was declared redundant in 1979 and sold freehold in 1980 for £38,000 as a furniture warehouse (Budget Furniture plc) which was still in business as of 2005. An alternative sale to a wine merchant was rejected as an unsuitable use. By 2008 it was the home of Mark Allen Group (publishers). There were no burials in the churchyard, nor memorials of note in the church. The Willis organ was allegedly sold to a school.
The parish is united with St Matthew's in Brixton. It does seem to be further evidence of over-provision of unwanted churches in 19th century England. Unwanted now, probably not wanted then, but preserved in aspic for all eternity. I feel a future blogpost coming on, questioning the wisdom/public utility of the heritage-of-unimportant-churches industry!
The leaflet describing the walk suggests walking past Brockwell Lido, but we thought we would pop in for a coffee, as one does!
A coffee that 'magically' became the best mushroom burger I have tasted, lashings of umami.
While we were there, the actual pool was being pained in readiness of its re-opening (on 20 April). I worried that these chaps would end up surrounding themselves with wet paint and become trapped. The didn't.
As you can tell from the photos, it was a gloriously sunny and warm March day, but as school home-time approached, the warmth of the day was gone, and we decided to walk home across the park, leaving the final leg to Ruskin Park for another day, and another blogpost.
The Shard, and other ghostly towers of London
Newly re-landscaped duckpond
The new children's playground
I laughed - cruelly - at the thought of a small child sliding down the slide, and down the hill, into the flower bed. Oops!
London is full of interesting walks; you can make your own way, or you can rely on the research of others. If you make your own way, you can discover some gems, if you follow a guide, you will find out more about the history that lies behind the sights.
Lambeth Council has several walks on its website. They use the term 'Lambeth Walks' somewhat hesitantly, with a knowing air that they'll be damned if they do and damned if they don't. In any case, one shouldn't confuse Lambeth Walk, in the old area of Lambeth, roughly Waterloo and Kennington, with the London Borough established in 1965, expanding from the 1900 Metropolitan Borough, which even then included Brixton, West Norwood etc
I have been to many places in England and beyond and taken a great many photographs - close to 20,000 - and very few of the place where I live, Brixton. so, one amazingly sunny and warm day in mid-March, technically still in winter, we set out on our epic journey.
We got off the bus outside the Town Hall and crossed over to inspect the Tate Library. What we mainly noticed was the shocking waste of having ground-lights on full beam in glorious sunshine. Frustrating when you know that Lambeth, like all authorities, is having to cut back vital services.
The walk starts at Tate Library, named after Henry Tate, who philanthropically donated towards the founding of this of and several other libraries, and an Art Gallery. The Lambeth leaflet describes him as Tate of Tate & Lyle, who invented the Sugar Cube. But Wikipedia says Henry Tate & sons only merged with Abram Lyle & Sons two decades after his death, and he only bought the patent for sugar cubes from a German concern.
He lived in Park Hill, in the more rural part of Streatham. His house was a Convent until the late 90s, and is now a Gated Residential Community, providing some enviable Property Porn on Google Images.
I have heard accusations that he made his fortune from Slavery, which Tate & Lyle deny, somewhat disingenuously. I think it's probably fair to say that the business prospered on the back of ex-slaves and their descendants labouring for low pay and in questionable conditions. But the same could be said for much of Britain's Industrial Heritage. In his defence was his philanthropy; on the other hand, he made a major donation to the fraudulent quackery known as Homeopathy, which I had no idea dated back to 1796. His bust stands outside the library.
A major recent change to Brixton town centre was the landscaping of Windrush Square, which was formally opened in 2010. Previously, much of it had been Brixton Oval and Tate Gardens. An otherwise vacant piece of once derelict land was renamed Windrush Square in 1998, because its cleaning-up happened to coincide with the 50th anniversary of the arrival of the MV Empire Windrush. This brought the first large group of West Indian Immigrants to the UK. They were initially housed in the deep shelter at Clapham South, and some went to Brixton's Labour Exchange; this is why Brixton became the capital of Black Britain.
We walked into the gardens of St Matthew's Church. A large church with a capacity of 2,000 people
The architect was called Porden; he is remembered in a pokey little road that goes round the back of the Town Hall and acts as a handy shortcut to Tescos.
I have read that many of the churches in Brixton, and, I daresay, elsewhere, were built by local industrialists and property developers. Their purpose wasn't particularly to meet the needs and wished of the local population but as an ostentatious sign that they were full of Christian virtue and not seeking to make a vast profit, oh no. I don't know whether this includes St Matthew's, given the history quoted above. In any case, it is under-utilised and various parts have long been used for more worldly pursuits, the rent for restaurants and nightclubs funding upkeep of the building. I miss the wonderful Bah Humbug restaurant which in the late 90s was probably my favourite; two nightclubs have recently defaulted. The rents seem prohibitively high, but are presumably what is needed to maintain the building. I wonder how much public and private money is going to keep old churches preserved in aspic for fear of destroying our 'Heritage'.
For a long time, the so-called Peace Garden was dominated by drinkers, druggies and other down-and-outs. It seemed almost bereft when we wandered through. It's nice to have an open space so close to a town centre; it's not something you often see in towns, whether they're part of big cities or stand-alone in rural surrounds. My eye was caught by an appealing park-bench, and the strong shadow it cast.
At the northern end of the park stands what I firmly believe to be the worst statue in London, the Richard Budd Memorial Mausoleum. It also commemorates his son Henry and his wife Charlotte. They lived in Russell Square.
We looked to the left to capture Lambeth Town Hall, venue of perhaps far too many evenings of my life. Four figures represent Justice, Science, Art, and Literature. Your guess will be as good as mine as to which we can see in this photo.
We then walked to the right, past the Ritzy Cinema, where, nowadays, the Trendies & Yummies congregate for coffee. I suppose if you're walking through the market, this is probably as safe a place as any to park your bike. I don't suppose many are taken from here.
We carried on into Coldharbour Lane, but that will form another blogpost on another day.
I made this in honour of National Pie Week in early March. I have been told by a Self-Appointed Pie Expert that dishes can only qualify to be pies if they have pastry on the bottom and sides as well as the top. Wikipedia suggests that what I made was a Cobbler, which I find a bit odd, because a cobbler has something more resembling scone than pastry to top it. And, of course, when you say fish pie people tend to assume you're doing a mashed potato topping. It's enough to make a simple blogger sigh.
I sent my manservant out to Brixton market to procure the goods, the fish and seafood ingredients. And I set to spend a great deal of time in 'prep'.
Actually, a very simple dish to cook, especially if you use shop-bought puff pastry. Life being way too short to actually home-make puff pastry.
I soon got squeamish as I peeled the raw prawns. Then I didn't even bother taking a photo of the haddock fillets, smoked or fresh, I was that hard/cynical.
But I thought all the effort I put into chopping the parsley and spring onion merited a photo. Even though I did wonder whether I'd chopped too much parsley and it would taste only of that and of nothing else.
The next stage was to make a Béchamel Sauce, starting with a Roux. Thankfully, the recipe didn't phrase it that way, because if it had, I would have panicked, remembering my old O-Level Home Economics teacher (yeah, that's what it was called back then, because 'Cookery' was far too trivial to teach at a Grammar School. Fools.). She impressed upon us how difficult it was to make the classic French sauces, pessimistically assuring us that they were bound to be lumpy. Perhaps thinking lumpy schoolgirls were not worthy to approach the Holy Grail of French classic sauces, which are taken way too seriously for what they are.
So, melt some butter and stir in some flour
Then stir in some cream and some cider, add the fish and the greens, and le voilà
Bung it all in a cooking utensil - in this case a small silicon loaf-tin, for the freezer
Stick some pastry on it, cook it in the oven, and take it out to see your cooking utensil transformed (No, not really. Obviously, I didn't cook the ones that were going in the freezer.)
And, hey, a picture of a pie, which is a pretty rubbish thing to photograph, what with one pastry-covered pie looking a lot like another pastry-covered pie.
And you have to take my word that they taste very very nice. One to make again, for certain.
Thanks to Delicious for the recipe
We first went to The Exhibition Rooms on Westow Hill soon after it opened. We don't go as often as we might, because it's awkward to get to, but, consistently, it delivers well cooked and well-presented food, with an emphasis on seasonal and English. It seemed like a breath of fresh air when it arrived, but it does seem a bit dated now, maybe four years after opening.
I think they need to re-think their website. Jimmy is always more enthusiastic about visiting than I am. I am never clear whether they have the current menu on the site and there are usually errors and broken links. For example, as I write, they are currently listing their desserts as Buttered new potatoes, Mixed leaf & herb salad etc; they have a few admittedly pleasant photos of their décor but are surprisingly coy about their food. I suppose they're busy enough so don't need to worry about their website, but it looks tired and lacking in attention to detail.
In actual fact, when I do go there, I am pleasantly surprised by the quality of the food. It's not perfect; for example, on this visit, Jimmy got a roast and the accompanying vegetables weren't worth the effort, and there have been a couple of other minor things of that nature. There appears to be a general criticism of the lack of vegetarian choice - I eat fish but not meat - and often, I feel I could happily eat three or four starters and choose a main by process of elimination.
On this occasion, I started with Caramelised scallops, having being assured that the crisp pancetta was not an integral part of the dish and could easily be omitted. This was served with pea and mint puree, and hazlenut butter. Very nicely cooked, juicy and succulent. I notice on the photo, and the same goes for the pudding that there was an inelegance in executing what was supposed to be elegant presentation. However, I didn't even notice when it was presented to me, and this probably shows that the camera captures in a sixth of a second what the eye edits out
My main course was Tranche of Halibut in a warm salad of new potatoes & marjoram, confit lemon and salsa verde and fennel seeds. Again, I couldn't fault it, although, conversely, I have to take their word that it was lemon and salsa verde and fennel seeds. The portions are hearty, and generally well-presented. Jimmy used to complain about the portions being too small, but he seems to have changed his tune. I think he's realised that they're well balanced; I think he's also been to more poncey restaurants where the portion size leaves much to be desired.
My dessert was rum and raisin cheesecake, which actually tasted better than it looked. When I was eating, I didn't even notice the heavy handedness with the toffee sauce - even though my hand clearly shook when I took this snap! The cheesy bit might look a bit artificial, I can assure you it isn't.
Overall, I would give high marks to the Exhibition Rooms. I love the light and airy decor, and I think they make the best use of their space: plenty of tables, but I've never felt that the people at the next table are too close. Unfortunately, on this occasion there was a multi-generational family where pudding was accompanied by running round and under their table, but that seems to be de rigeur almost wherever you go for Sunday lunch, so I can't blame the restaurant.
I will undoubtedly go back on more occasions, but they need to be aware that there are an awful lot of very good eating places that have emerged in the southern half of Lambeth, and there is no longer the need to go to Crystal Palace to eat. They also need to ensure they keep an eye on trends, because I suspect that they already appear way behind to expert foodies.
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